Forever

Polyvinyl; 2014

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A lot more goes into release dates than "seasonal appropriateness," I realize, but Painted Palms' Forever sure doesn't feel like a January record. The long-gestating debut LP from the San Francisco psych-pop duo is a bright, spangling, decidedly summery affair, all radiant harmonies and warm reverberations. Forever's pleasures are simple, breezy, a little like bringing a parka to the pool: you're supposed to dive right in, not waste a lot of time peeling back the layers. Forever is lush, easygoing, 39 balmy minutes in paradise. But spend too much time in these all-too-pleasant surroundings, and you can't help but feel like you've been there before.

Cousins Reese Donohue and Christopher Prudhomme planted the seeds of Painted Palms when the pair were separated by a dozen states, gradually building up tracks from the snippets they'd shoot back-and-forth through email. And, though they've both called San Francisco home for a number of years, Forever's shimmering construction is mostly in line with their earlier efforts. Like a lot of young bands, they're certainly not shy about their fondness for the Beach Boys and their legions of sonic followers; especially Animal Collective, and even more especially, Panda Bear's 2007 landmark Person Pitch. The Palms do have a few legs up on much of the not-exactly-thin post-Pitch crowd; their sound's fuller, the sense of melody better defined. And, in Prudhomme, they've got a singer who serves as their answer to Noah Lennox. On "Too High," for instance, Prudhomme cuts through the track's radar-gun reverb with a swooping, choirboy-in-an-echo-chamber vocal line packed with the long vowel sounds Lennox favors. The similarities don't stop in Prudhomme's throat; between Forever's droning intros, distressed breakbeats, and prickly calliope-style keyboards, it's fairly clear just who these guys owe much of their sound to.

Lyrically, Forever concerns itself with a lot of minor communication breakdowns: "never ever said the things that mattered," "she didn't understand that I was having trouble in my head." And, in keeping with the music's endlessly summery vibe, the rest is pleasantly half-baked: "look at my hands and look at the air," "when I see the light," "I can't tell if I'm high or low." What there's not, unfortunately, is any sense of urgency, anything lending these songs much in the way of consequence or fervor. That "never said the things that mattered" line (from "Soft Hammer", Forever's most unadulterated Beach Boys nod) seems especially telling. These songs may be well-crafted, busy without being overcluttered, built around strong—if not particularly distinctive—melodies. But, since Prudhomme and Donohue haven't quite yet figured out how to assert themselves above their fairly obvious influences, where personality's concerned, they're a little lacking.

Between the carefully plotted reference points and the not-exactly-gripping lyrics, Forever tends to run together over the course of its 39-minute runtime. Still, taken song-for-song, there's no shortage of takeaways: the bouncy "Not Really There", the ambling Atlas Sound-alike "Carousel", the late-LP one-two of the brash "Spinning Signs" and the tender "Sleepwalking." Donohue and Prudhomme certainly know their way around a melody, and their careful craftsmanship puts them a notch or two ahead of the oft-slapdash box-ticking of a lot of easily led up-and-comers. But, if they hope to keep it going through the next cold snap, Painted Palms still need to figure out a way to bring a little more of themselves to the party.